


i think i found my way home

by sultrygoblin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chubby Reader, Counter Sex, F/M, Fluff, Kitchen Sex, Smut, chubby james "bucky" barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - anything that you desire, anything at all. everyday i'll take you higher and I'll never let you fall.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	i think i found my way home

**Author's Note:**

> i have been making all the food in the world and it made me think i needed to write a reader who likes to experiment with cooking who accidentally makes bucky chubby because who doesn’t love a chubby bucky

It started completely harmless. It really did. Bucky was a super-soldier with an appetite to match. How could you not take advantage of it? It started as an excuse to try out the to-do list of recipe that was about a mile long. When you’d found an affordable artisanal deli you knew it had to be fate. It also meant you had a standing date for the farmer’s market every Sunday. There was just something about walking from stall to stall with him and picking out food that felt right. You just wanted to give him that feeling and food seemed like the best way. It’s what you were good at, what you loved to do, and he never seemed to get enough of it. That’s why this was so unusual. He’s forgotten his lunch and when you try to bring it to him, he’s far too quick with the response that he’s already eaten. You know he’s lying, he likes to think he can lie to you. He can’t. He’s terrible at it. Dinner comes and goes, he gets home late. You’ve been keeping the food warm in the oven. He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I ate something in the caf,” taking a step towards you for his hello kiss and furrowing his brows when you stepped back, “What?”

“You’re lying to me. Poorly at that,” crossing your arms and shaking her head, “If you don’t like it...” you didn’t know but if it were the case he should at least tell you.

He shook his head, stepping across the room and there’s nowhere to go. The counter’s corner digs into the small of your back bordering on painfully. It keeps you from getting swept up in those piercing blues that are just so sorry. He’s lying to you and worse, he thinks he can get away with it. You press a bit more when he grabs your hand in his, lacing your fingers. It’s his go to get out of jail free move. This time it won’t work. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong and as much as he’s trying to he won’t be able to make you forget about it any other way than talking. 

“Steve, he, uh,” you know talking about everything is still something he’s getting used to and you’re happy he seems to be trying. But that might just be because you’ve made it insanely clear that you will not be giving in to his masculine wiles, “He said your pies might be slowing me down.”

It takes a second but you have to remember you’ve never been cut from marble. It isn’t a thing you really think about. Now that you look there’s more roundness here and there but if it hadn’t been pointed out to you there’s no question you would never have noticed. It’s clear he does so rather than laughing and asking where on God’s green Earth either of them could’ve gotten the idea that was being implied, you looked at him with empathy. Squeezing his hands with yours and smiling.

“This isn’t about pie,” you spoke softly, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his chin before leaning back, “What is it?”

“I feel like a hypocrite,” he sighs after a long bout of silence than you had honestly expected.

“I get that,” nodding slowly, pulling his hands lightly so he was pressed snugly up against you, “I don’t think you’re a hypocrite. I can find new recipes if that’s what you really want.”

“But I don’t. I love your food. I love that you just want to take care of me,” dropping his chin on top of your head, “It just didn’t feel great.”

“It tends not to,” you never thought the two of you would commiserate over this but you’re oddly happy about it. You wish it didn’t have to be like this but if it did at least you knew exactly where he was coming from, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. I’ve found friends, particularly of the best variety forget that even their words can hurt sometimes.”

“You’re right,” leaning back and finally there’s a smile on his face, small but it’s there, “It still doesn’t feel great,” you grin, wrapping his arms around your waist so you could wrap your own around his neck, “When I do this you get mad at me?”

“You don’t even know what I’m doing,” of course he knows what you’re doing. The exact same thing he had the first time you’d voiced your insecurities to him, “Alright. But it works. I would know.”

“It just got me thinking is all,” which means it’s about you and him, he’s been using his best friend as a cover. Which you honestly should’ve sniffed out, “When we met-”

“No,” stopping him before he can start with a firm shake of your head, “Don’t say it. Don’t even think about it. It’s you. It’s always you,” driving the point home with a hard and unexpected, even to you, kiss to his lips.

You slid onto the counter, ignoring the way it scraped the skin of your lower back raw. You wrapped your legs around him, holding him close and tight with every limb as he kissed you back greedily. You try not to knock your head into the cupboard but he presses forward and you do.

“Ow,” you whined as he snickered, pulling back to look at her, “Does that alleviate any worry you have about me and my feelings towards you?”

“Yes,” it’s the most genuine smile you think you’ve ever seen on his face and it makes your heart melt, “Yes it does.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have a plan b,” twisting your fingers in his short hairs, “Just me and my body.”

“Well, you and your body are doing a bang-up job,” watching how easily that smile melted into a smirk that sent a jolt straight between your legs, “You saying your not gonna miss it?”

“All I need’s you, doll,” you shot back with a cheeky grin of your own, “Now, if you would be so kind as to move us to the island so we can do this properly.”

He still moves you with ease to the recently tidied counter. You never could stand a mess after dinner and he’s never been more thankful for that fact than now. Up until now, it had always been off-limits, every other room of the house you’d christened as often as you could. But never here, you’d used the word sanctuary once and he hadn’t quite understood it. It never occurred to him, until your lips were fluttering across his neck and lifting the hem of his undershirt, that what he had been feeling these past few hours had been those feelings he had tried to kiss and compliment away since you’d first begun his favorite dance. It made sense why it hadn’t worked. You felt it in your bones now because you knew he had stepped into your shoes, whether you were aware of the thought or not. He prefers you’re not.

“You know,” shirt gone, your fingertips dragging firmly along his sides and he can’t help hissing at the shudder running his spine, “I think the little extra might be a little more sensitive,” nipping at the soft curve of his jaw.

“I think you’re right.”

He’s sure it’s more that you really mean it. What you’ve been saying since the beginning. When he went to Wakanda, you waited, and when Thanos had snapped him from existence, you had waited. Thankful and content with what little of your love you could shove between the worst moments of his life. It’s what you’ve been doing now, with baked goods and juicy meats, some part of you is still expecting him to leave you for an unknowable amount of time. He’s yours, no matter what and Bucky is sure he’s never been loved like that before. 

He pulls at your paint-stained at home shirt with more eagerness than you’ve ever experienced from him, desperately pulling your newly exposed flesh against his own. He wants to kiss you but he doesn’t trust himself to stop and that would make it a little difficult to get off your leggings. Instead, he makes quick work of them along with your panties before hauling you back against him. One hand grips the thigh wrapped around him tightly, the cooling metal of his arm wrapped around your waist does nothing to cool you off. You once again realize how strange it is to be on the other side. It allows you another understanding of him you thought you’d never have. If possible it makes you love him even more. Your touch works along his skin, making sure to run along every inch you could release, his mouth suckling at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

Your fingers flick the button of his jeans open and drag the zipper down, wasting no time in dipping your hand beneath the fabric and gripping him. His teeth make their appearance, his grip tightening everywhere. You’ll sure you’ll bruise and as always you’re oddly excited about it. You feel like a teenager, especially when he steals your breath with his lips. Making out in the kitchen with your hand down his jeans just trying to tell him how sexy you think he is. His smile says he’s not too far off from feeling the same way, it melts when your grip tightens and he moans. His fingers move towards your core, eager to return the favor when you shake your head.

“No,” swallowing hard, lips brushing across his, “I just want to feel you.”

You remember when he’d said those words to you and how you’d almost immediately come undone. His hips stutter forward and you hold him tight as his tip brushes against you. You always seem ready for him, at least from his perspective, but now it feels especially important. He sinks into fully with a snap of his hips and you try to squeal but it catches in your throat, coming out more of a pathetic whimper than anything else. It sets him off and you hold on, fingers affection against him, lips wandering, whispering every thought that passes your mind against his ear.

“You feel so good.”

“Look at me, see what you do to me.”

“I just want you, baby. Just you.”

It isn’t about you, it’s about him. Even when you cum, instead of losing yourself completely you hold his gaze. Even when he can’t hold yours. Letting the clamping of your walls around him be another thing to remind him of how much you really want him. Until he can’t hold it in anymore, gripping you tighter than he ever has before. Breaths coming in pants. Slick with sweat. And more beautiful than ever. His body loses its rhythm, brows knitted, focused on chasing his own release. The need rocks you to your core, squeezing one last orgasm from your body and dragging his from him with a whimper.

A sound so deep and low you almost thought you had imagined it. His hips stutter and it happens again, loud enough to drive home it had been real. You lock it away, already wondering to yourself how you can pull that sound from him again. But you have all night to figure that out. Instead, you hold his weight best you can, even when it becomes awkward and you’re sure your arm must be falling asleep.

“Are you hungry now?” you whisper, tone the same as your praise of him.

His body shivers and he forces a laugh, “Very.”


End file.
